Having done your research on fluffy ponies and made a trip to a fluffy park to interact with a few, you’ve made your decision: you’re definitely going to buy a fluffy pony. You also decided you weren’t going in with a specific type or even gender in mind; you’d browse until you met one that clicked with you. That seemed better than any unrealistic expectations of deciding on a specific kind and gender of fluffy, grabbing one that fit the bill, and then trying to make it conform to your expectations.
So you drive down to the local shelter and walk in.
The place is clean, smells faintly of lemon-scented cleaner and strongly of cedar chips, is brightly lit, and the employees are dressed in khaki pants and polo shirts. They seem friendly and cheerful. You’re not immediately assaulted by screaming, desperate fluffies all begging you to take them home instead of leaving them in a crowded, abusive environment with an inevitable date with the executioner if they don’t sell them fast enough. You walked into one of those shelters when you first became curious about having a fluffy of your own and couldn’t get out fast enough.
Instead, you hear the babble of happy fluffies, some of them noticing you and informing the others excitedly, but there are no shrieks, no banging on cages, and no crying. Quite the contrast.
You chose this shelter deliberately; only ten percent of their stock consists of ferals, and they’re very choosy about which ones they take in. Any ferals brought to them with issues that make them unadoptable are rejected; if someone leaves a box of ferals on their step and any are defective (physically or in terms of personality), they clean them up, feed them, give them their immunization shots, spay/neuter them, and then set them loose again to fend for themselves without adding to the feral problem; the only fluffies they kill are ones with terminal injuries or illnesses, or ones who are crippled or terribly traumatized and beg for death. It has great reviews on hugbox.com.
The other 90% of their stock consists of overflow from pet stores; foals who sat on the sales floor for too long and stopped being cute, mainly. They also take in abandoned pets, or fluffies whose owners died or were forced to get rid of their fluffies for other reasons (such as moving someplace that didn’t allow pets). They do take in rescue fluffies, but not ones who are damaged goods and won’t serve as good pets.
You look around, inform the employee walking over to greet you that you’re just browsing, then begin walking through the store.
First, you pass a row of cages, stacked four high. Each is made of high strength plastic and has a transparent plastic window at the front with small holes so customers can interact with the fluffies within; the back has a standard cage door providing access for employees.
Each cage is fairly spacious, giving the fluffies room to move around and even stand on their hind legs, and covered in cedar chips. A litter box is placed near the door in the back, each fluffy has a soft baby blanket that has been wadded, stomped, and shaped into a nest, there’s a water bottle and food dish, and every cage has a cheap plastic ball and a trio of blocks for the fluffy to play with. On the front of each cage, there’s a sticker with the fluffy’s name (if any), age (sometimes estimated), gender, type (earthie, pegasus, or unicorn), immunization status (every single one says they’ve had all their shots), and whether or not they’ve been spayed/neutered (only previously-owned fluffies were sterilized; the shelter left it up to the customer whether or not to have their fluffy spayed/neutered, though there were rumblings in the state legislature that all fluffies sold via pet shop or shelter would have to be sterilized in the future.).
Each cage is home to two fluffies (their website says this is so they have someone to play with, hug, and have a fluff pile at night, which helps them adjust to life in the shelter.), usually of the same gender but one or two had a neutered stallion with a mare. One exception held an earthie stallion, brown with dark red mane and tail, and a small powder blue pegasus mare with navy mane and tail and white dappling on her rump; their sticker said they were “special friends” whose owner had passed away and they would only sell them to a customer who was willing to take both. Neither seemed very happy and spent the entire time you were in the shelter hugging each other and crying softly for ‘daddeh’. You weren’t opposed to buying a mated pair, but since this was your first fluffy you should probably start with just one.
The fluffies in each cage were cheerful, friendly, and curious, all of them approaching the glass and greeting you. A few inquired if you would be their new ‘daddeh’, but you were carefully noncommittal; you weren’t going to say yes until you’d decided, and saying no would crush the poor little things.
The next row of cages was identical, but instead of a pair of fluffies, this was where the pregnant and nursing mares were kept. Some cages held a single mare and her litter of foals, others held a pregnant dam and her attendant mare, and two held stallions; one had a pregnant dam and her ‘special friend’ in it, with the stallion acting as attendant, and the other had a nursing mare, her ‘special friend’, and a litter of foals. Both cages had stickers stating the mare and stallion would only be sold as a pair, but that foals could be purchased seperately once weaned. The ‘mummah’s mostly ignored you, focusing on their foals, but one asked if you would adopt her and all six of her foals. You made another noncommittal reply and she harumphed, then settled down to nurse her foals and loudly stated, "nu wowwy babbehs, mummah fine gud home fow famiwy’. You expect she will be bitterly disappointed once her foals are weaned and get sold off one by one instead of as a family unit. Though the stickers on the cages do mention that that is an option.
Next, you pass by a third row of cages. Each holds between two and ten foals, all weaned. Except in cases of single births or small litters, each cage contains only siblings; any small litters are combined in a single cage, and foals whose siblings have all been sold get moved into a low-population cage rather than left alone, again, for their emotional health. Most of the foals ignore you, intent on playing huggie-tag, ball, or blocks, or napping. One foal is laying on his back, legs splayed, and head pressed into the corner of the cage by the glass, snoring loudly. You smirk at the sight, then suppress a laugh when another colt trots up, shouts, “PWAY!” and smacks the sleeping colt in the balls with a little hoof before running off giggling. The sleeping colt awakes with a pained shriek, hugs his crotch, and cries about his ‘no-no’s’ hurting.
Then you pass to the fourth row of cages. These are labeled RESCUE FLUFFIES, with a little logo featuring a fluffy wearing an eyepatch and holding a heart with a band-aid on it. Hnnnng!
Most of these cages hold individual fluffies, rather than pairs. The first one you come to has a tan unicorn stallion with chocolate mane and tail inside. He’s eating kibble, but as soon as he sees you he backs into a corner, tucks his tail between his legs, and starts crying.
“Pwease nu huwt fwuffy! Fwuffy chiwp wike widdwe babbeh, make mista happeh! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!”
His sticker says he’s not for sale yet, as he still needs rehabilitation, but is very friendly and loving once he gets to know you. You move on to the next one.
“Hewwo! Nyu daddeh?”
A bright red pegasus stallion with orange mane and tail cocks his head, twitches his ears, and flicks his tail, looking as adorable as possible. He buzzes his one wing excitedly. Other than the missing wing and some scarring on his front leg where the fluff didn’t quite grow back all the way, he looks intact. Until you read the sticker, duck down to look under him (which causes the fluffy to cock his head again in curiosity at your odd behavior) and see that while he hasn’t been neutered, most of his penis is, in fact, missing. Wow. Poor little guy. Seems cheerful and friendly in spite of it though. You give a friendly smile and wave, then move on to the next cage.
This one is named Waffles and is a royal blue earthie mare with dark blue mane and tail and an odd powder blue crosshatch pattern that appears in splotches all over her body. It’s an interesting and unique effect that makes her look very attractive. Then you read her sticker and something inside you twinges when you read that the crosshatch pattern is scarring from when her owner put her inside a waffle maker and caused second and third degree burns. She’s very quiet and subdued, but not shy or antisocial.
A foal covered in bandages is playing with a ball, though as soon as he notices you he trots over, puts his hooves on the glass, and starts begging for hugs. His sticker says his mother attacked him for being the wrong color and trying to nurse before the ‘bestest’ babies and his owner put him up for adoption for his own safety. Since he’s a pleasing shade of soft yellow with a neon green mane and tail, you wonder just what his mother’s issue was with his coloration.
Another cage has a trio of foals napping in a fluff pile; the sticker states that they’re not for sale yet as they’re all viable runts who were rejected and need to be bottle-fed and given special treatment to ensure they live to adulthood.
You circle back around to the front of the store and ponder as you look at the rows of cages again.
Hmmm… which fluffy to take home with you…
